


hopeless romantic

by Smudge



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A Bit Ridiculous, F/M, a bit soft, a slight mistaken identity strangers to lovers, a whole lotta bughead, and SMUT, because tumblr informed me that y'all nasty, because why not, betty is like what is with men this year oh my god, jughead is impulsive and smitten, on Valentine's Day, veronica feels very strongly about lipstick, which is fine because i left my shame back in the early 2000's so get it dolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22718326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smudge/pseuds/Smudge
Summary: Thankful for the distraction of her phone, she slipped it out of her bag and prepared to make theOh no, my best friend/mom/sister/boss/cat has an emergency, I’m so sorry for leaving you in the middle of dinnerface when she saw that the text was from someone who should be sitting across from her.Nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she read the message with wide eyes.You look boredSitting up straight, she clutched her phone in surprise and looked around when her phone went off again. Giving her date another apologetic smile, she tried to calm her racing heart and stay composed before reading the newest text.The barBetty’s eyes went wide as she looked over to the bar—to the guy she’d spotted right before her little daydream who’d taken the starring role. Feeling her face flush, she fought the urge to pat her cheeks, trying to calm them just as he raised his glass in her direction with a smile.Or, a whole lot of wrong goes right so Betty and Jughead can meet.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 69
Kudos: 334
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	hopeless romantic

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you gorgeous creatures out there! Or, you know, the 3 people who read my stuff and see this (you’re my favorites so it’s really just for you).
> 
> Is this ridiculous? Yes. Is it a bit absurd? A little, yeah. Did I get soft at the end because of bughead? You betcha. 
> 
> So read on, lovelies!

“No, Betty, no,” Veronica demanded, shaking a finger in reprimand. “We do not cry over boys when our makeup is this on point.” 

Betty’s lower lip trembled and she sucked in a deep breath, waving her hands in front of her face to dry her eyes before her mascara ran. 

“There we go,” Veronica soothed, giving her an encouraging smile. “What’s the rule?” 

Betty’s smile was pained as she tried to answer, her lip wobbling once more before she got it out. “No man—”

“Is worth wasting good lipstick,” Veronica finished for her with a decisive nod. 

“Can I cry if it doesn’t mess up the lipstick?” 

“Of course not, Bebe, that’s a limited edition,” Veronica said sympathetically, squeezing Betty’s hand. “And we don’t take that chance with limited editions.” 

Betty nodded bravely, pulling her shoulders back to stand up straighter. 

“That’s my girl.” Veronica led her out of the corner they’d sequestered themselves in. “Now let’s go make all the men nervous.” 

“How?” 

“By ignoring them, of course.” Veronica pulled Betty along behind her, her heels clicking decisively on the floor. “Nothing makes a man more nervous than acting like you don’t need him.” 

Veronica stopped suddenly, turning to flash a sharp grin at Betty. “Then again, the only thing that makes them more nervous than not needing them is _wanting_ them. So, either way, we win.” 

“I’m not sure that’s how that works, Veronica,” Betty replied, looking over Veronica’s shoulder towards the party they’d snuck away from. 

“Sure it is,” Veronica said, spinning back around and tightening her grip on Betty’s hand. “Women are damned if they do and damned if they don’t, so we might as well make men work for what we want them to have anyway, right?” 

“I guess,” Betty answered, unsure but unwilling to argue. 

“Now, that tall, dark, and well-dressed at two o’clock has been staring at you since I got here,” Veronica said, her head tilting in the direction of a tall man, standing in the corner, his eyes on Betty. “You’re definitely leaving here with his number, but we’re going to make him sweat over it.” 

“Veronica,” Betty muttered, leaning closer to her so no one could listen in, “I just got stood up—”

“By a tasteless idiot—”

“You’re the one who set up the date!” 

Veronica looked up at her with wide eyes. “Am I not allowed to make mistakes? I thought he was better than that. I was obviously wrong and he’ll be paying for it, trust me.” 

Sighing in defeat, Betty rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I guess.” 

She’d called Veronica less than an hour ago, asking her to please get to whatever party she’d sent her to as fast as she could since her date apparently couldn’t be bothered to do more than ghost her. Veronica had shown up less than forty-five minutes after that call, stomping through the crowd like a missile until she’d found Betty leaning against a back wall and dragged her to the bathroom for a pep talk. They’d only gotten a few feet out of the doorway when it’d hit Betty again; she’d been dumped _and_ stood up within two months of each other. There was only so much one woman could take before she gave up and vowed to eat ice cream on her sofa with her cat until even her fat jeans whimpered in defeat. 

It wasn’t that she missed her ex (she missed sex, sure, but him? Debatable.) or that she was torn up about not getting to date whatever guy Veronica set her up with, it was that feeling of being unwanted. 

And oh, how she wanted to be wanted. 

It wasn’t too much to ask to be wanted by someone, was it? She pondered as she listened to Veronica ramble on about revenge plans and what she should wear on a date with that guy in the corner. It was a fair request, she decided, looking down at whatever little black dress Veronica had tossed at her earlier and the shoes that were killing her feet but looked amazing. 

_Pinky toes don’t need nerve endings,_ Veronica had claimed when she’d said they weren’t meant for walking. The most frivolous of toes, Betty had declared in agreement when she saw what the stilettos did for her calves. 

Hair curled and makeup done, Veronica had sent her out the door with already numb baby toes to meet this mystery man that she’d been promised was both delicious and devious. 

Devious was definitely right, Betty thought, grabbing a glass of some sort of alcohol off of a nearby tray, nodding seriously at Veronica in agreement with whatever tangent she’d been going on about. 

Personally, Betty wanted to get drunk and then into her favorite pajamas, the gross ones no one but her knows about. Threadbare and stretched out, they might be the most comfortable pajamas known to man and she wasn’t about to risk their existence by letting Veronica accidentally see them. 

She glanced over at Veronica out of the corner of her eye, wondering if anyone besides her actually slept in silk or satin. The one time Betty had tried, she’d woken up with the chemise Veronica had gifted her twisted up around her chest, almost choking her before she gave up and slid out of bed, throwing it across the room with a growl when she’d finally gotten it off. Mentally shrugging and starting a lovely daydream about her comfortable pajamas and fluffy cat, she took another sip of her drink, feeling pleasantly warmer with each passing minute. 

“Besides,” Veronica said with a gesture of disgust, “he once wore black socks and white sneakers so I should have known better than to ever let him near you.” 

“Black socks and white sneakers you say? Scandalous,” Betty quipped, putting her empty glass down and reaching for another. 

Veronica turned to Betty with her hand on her heart, eyes pleading. “I promise the next guy will not be a snake, Bebe.” 

“I thought the next guy was going to be tall, dark, and well dressed over there,” she reminded her, pointing towards the guy who was trying to be less obvious in his staring. 

“Oh, him? He’s good for a date, a free meal, and maybe a good rebound romp, but long term? No, I don’t think so. He looks like he’d bore you to tears while talking about his hedge fund.” 

“Sounds like a pretentious bush,” Betty said, giggling and feeling pleasantly dizzy. 

“And you’ve had enough,” Veronica declared, taking the glass away from her, ignoring Betty’s sad whimper and pouting lips. “Go talk to him, get his number, but you are not going home with anyone but me tonight, is that understood?” 

“Yes, Mom,” Betty said with a salute, spinning on her heels to head towards her new mystery man. 

* * *

Vaguely aware that an irritating buzz had been what had woken him up, Jughead fumbled for his phone on the nightstand. Squinting at the bright light, he threw an arm over his eyes to give himself a second before trying again. 

“Who the hell?” he mumbled, slapping at his phone until he managed to turn the brightness down. 

Blinking at the screen, it took three tries before he even absorbed what it said. 

_Hi, this is Betty, I know you said the restaurant isn’t too fancy but is this fine?_

Underneath it was a picture of what he thought might be mile long legs attached to a beautiful blond in a pink dress with a fat caramel colored cat near her feet. Without thinking, he’d typed back, _You look gorgeous,_ before assuming it was all part of a dream and dropped his phone to roll over and go back to his nap. 

Less than a minute later he felt his phone vibrate again, and he realized he might have really just texted a random woman about her looks, letting her assume he was someone she trusted enough to send a picture to. 

He grabbed the phone again to read the newest message. 

_Thank you. See you soon!_

Damn, he thought with a pang of guilt before deciding to fix his mistake. Before he could type out anything that didn’t sound like a creepy asshole, another text came through, confirming an address of a restaurant he knew was both not that far from his place and more expensive than he’d ever want to spend on any sort of food. 

He almost threw his phone when yet another text made his phone vibrate, this time from his best friend he’d made plans with earlier in the week. 

_sorry bro, i forgot it was valentine’s and i got a date. raincheck?_

Well, fuck, he groaned internally. Tossing his phone down, he ran his hands down his face, exhaling loudly and already mourning the rest of his nap. After a quick argument with himself, he stared hard at his closet and made a decision. 

“I’m definitely going to regret this,” he muttered to himself, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. 

Throwing open the closet door, he glared at the clothes hanging there. Grabbing the first dark button-up he could find, he pulled it on, kicking through the pants on the floor, wondering where he’d put the black slacks he had worn on an interview a few weeks prior. Finding them actually folded on top of his pile of shoes surprised him and he huffed a laugh, reaching for them. 

It took him less than five minutes to get dressed with a rushed brushing of his teeth and quick sniff to make sure his deodorant wasn’t going to be fighting a losing game. Sticking his wallet in his back pocket and pocketing the keys, he headed out of his apartment without much thought of his actual game plan. 

He checked the picture she’d sent to make sure he’d recognize her as he neared the restaurant and if he checked it more than once for purely innocent reasons no one was around to call him out on it. Almost walking into someone leaving the restaurant, he slipped his phone back in his pocket and cringed when he realized he’d have to talk to the hostess about who he was meeting. 

Bypassing the hostess with a quick smile and gesture at the bar, she gave him a friendly nod and told him to have a good night, putting on her best fake smile for the couple that had walked in behind him. 

He kept his eyes open, scanning the restaurant for Betty, but not seeing any pretty blondes in a pink dress, he relaxed against the bar, ordering a drink to pass the time and calm his nerves. Knowing that he should have just texted her the mistake, he swallowed nervously, wondering if this little impulse was about to get him slapped or kicked when he turned to look out of the big windows at the front of the restaurant. 

Seeing her in person was not the same as a selfie taken in a bedroom mirror with a chubby cat in the frame. The fading light of the sunset and the shine of the street lamps lit her profile up for him to take in. Smooth skin and long blonde hair were the first things he took before moving down past her jacket and pink dress to long toned legs held up by shoes he was certain weren’t made for walking. 

Forgetting all about the drink he’d ordered that had been set down in front of him and about to intercept her before realizing there was no one there to meet her, he watched with growing horror as a tall man in a suit walked up to her with a smile and a chaste kiss on her cheek before leading her into the restaurant and up to the hostess to be seated. Eyes following their movements, he observed as the man pulled out her chair and helped her with her coat, revealing a swath of creamy shoulders to the room. With a deep breath, he decided to finish his drink and pretend he’d never gotten a random text from a pretty stranger. 

She was facing towards him, eyes focused on her date and he took the time to take in her features while leaning back against the bar. Picking up his glass and staring at her over the rim, he observed her intensely, letting his eyes trail over her face. He was almost taken aback at how big her eyes were; green, he thought before his eyes slipped to her lips, pink and pouty. Tempting, he decided. 

He should have left, he knew, but he couldn’t help but sit there and watch her. Animated at first, she’d been smiling and talking, her focus solely on her date but as time passed he could see that her smile had dimmed. With an occasional nod, she set her chin in her hand and let her eyes go distant. 

There was a part of him that knew he could pay for his drink, walk out of the restaurant and still actually have her number but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She looked bored and miserable and he figured if he’d actually gotten dressed, he might as well put it to good use. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he smirked when he opened his texts to type a quick message before ordering a second drink. 

* * *

_He’s kissing her neck, his hands tight on her hips as he pulls her back into him. Biting that spot that she likes so much right under her ear with a whispered caress of her name, she can’t help but moan too loud for the quiet room._

_Reaching for him, she tangles her fingers in his inky hair and rolls up on the balls of her feet to give him better access to the skin he seems to find so interesting. He groans into her neck, his fingers crawling forward to slip under—_

A soft vibration jolted her out of the fantasy she had let herself fall into. Flashing her date an apologetic smile as if she even knew what he had been talking about, she reached for the tiny clutch purse on her lap, praying that it had been Veronica with their **Save A Betty** plan, just in case the date was unbearable. 

And it was. 

From what she remembered at the party, he’d been charming and funny. Maybe a little dry, but they were strangers, right? They had to get to know each other. It took less than twenty-five minutes of small talk to make a date for Valentine’s Day, with promises of a good reservation and good food, she’d given him her number after confirming a place and time to meet him—in public. 

He was definitely better looking than she remembered but after about five minutes of conversation without liquid lubrication all over her inhibitions, she’d discovered he was also boring. Quite possibly the most boring person she’d ever had to eat with if she was being honest. 

Thankful for the distraction of her phone, she slipped it out of her bag and prepared to make the _Oh no, my best friend/mom/sister/boss/cat has an emergency, I’m so sorry for leaving you in the middle of dinner_ face when she saw that the text was from someone who should be sitting across from her. 

Nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she read the message with wide eyes. 

_You look bored_

Sitting up straight, she clutched her phone in surprise and looked around when her phone went off again. Giving her date another apologetic smile, she tried to calm her racing heart and stay composed before reading the newest text. 

_The bar_

Betty’s eyes went wide as she looked over to the bar—to the guy she’d spotted right before her little daydream who’d taken the starring role. Feeling her face flush, she fought the urge to pat her cheeks, trying to calm them just as he raised his glass in her direction with a smile. 

“Excuse me, I just need to take care of something,” Betty said, trying to sound as sincerely sorry as she could. 

He gave her a confused smile but nodded, reaching for his wine glass. She brushed past him, her steps determined even though she didn’t have a plan when she got towards her newest mystery man. 

If only he was less attractive, she thought, trying to maintain her air of irritation. 

She saw him stiffen as he realized she was headed his way and she felt a wave of satisfaction when she narrowed her eyes and he started to look slightly nervous. 

“Explain yourself,” she demanded, poking him in the chest with a finger. Ignoring the very solid surface she’d come in contact with, she glared at him. “Now.” 

Almost as if he was amused by her annoyance, he let a slow smile curl up his lips before he answered. 

“You’re the one who texted me first.” 

Betty huffed. “Obviously I had the wrong number.” She crossed her arms, looking at him pointedly. “You should have told me.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed, sliding off the bar stool to stand in front of her. “Or—”

“There’s an ‘or’?” Betty asked disbelievingly. “Seriously?” 

“Yes,” he said, being polite enough to ignore when her eyes dip quickly to his lips before they jumped back up to his eyes. “Maybe it’s kismet.” 

“Kismet?” 

“Serendipity.” 

Betty shook her head. “Those aren’t the same thing.” 

“True,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong either.” 

Fighting a smile, she poked him again. “It still doesn’t explain why you’re being a creep in a restaurant.” 

His cocky stance deflated. “I know. I’m sorry about that, but I texted you back without thinking and then I realized you were already on your way to meet a guy I wasn’t sure was going to show up.” 

Betty’s anger melted and she bit her lip, being polite enough to ignore when she saw his eyes dip down to her lips before jumping back up to her eyes. “You could have just texted me. You didn’t have to come here.”

“Well if you’re going to poke holes in my story and chest, then I don’t know what else to tell you,” he said remorsefully. 

She cracked and finally smiled at him, letting out a small laugh. “Fine. So you’re not a weirdo?” 

“Oh, I definitely am, but a harmless one. Scouts honor,” he told her, holding up two fingers at her. 

“That’s not even the right hand sign,” she informed him with a raised brow. 

“Huh.” He sounded both bemused and amused. “Who knew?” 

“So,” Betty started, adjusting her weight from foot to foot, trying to discreetly shake out her toes, “you’re here. Why stick around after you realized I wasn’t being stood up?” 

“First, to finish my drink,” he said, gesturing to his empty glass sitting on the bar. “And then, it was because you looked so incredibly bored.” 

She sighed. He wasn’t wrong, but he was still some random guy who showed up at a restaurant instead of just texting her like a normal person. Choosing to ignore the little voice in the back of her head that kept whispering how incredibly sweet it was in theory to do what he did, she scrunched her nose at him and shrugged. 

“He was much more interesting when I was two Manhattans in and thinking about the ice cream in my freezer, I admit, but at least he didn’t stand me up like the last guy.” 

“Rough week?” 

“Rough month,” Betty replied, giving him a sad smile. 

“Jughead,” he said suddenly, smiling widely. 

Betty stared up at him in confusion. “Bless you?” 

He laughed and held his hand out. “It’s my name. Jughead Jones, at your service. It’s nice to meet you, Betty.” 

Putting her hand in his, she ignored the warmth crawling through her. “Nice to meet you, Jughead, I’m Betty Cooper.” She eyed him. “At my service?” 

He nodded. “You’re on a terrible date and you’ve been gone lost past the point of politeness. Want me to get you out of it?” 

Narrowing her eyes at him, she considered his offer. She was bored and it wasn’t like she ever had to see him again. With a quick nod, she agreed knowing she didn’t have to even go past the restaurant doors with Jughead unless she wanted to. 

“What’s his name?” 

Betty held her breath, her cheeks puffed out while she thought. 

“You don’t have a clue, do you?” Jughead fought a laugh. “You didn’t put his name in your phone with his contact information?” 

Sheepish, she shook her head with a wince. “Well, I obviously got his phone number wrong so I don’t know why you’re surprised. I’ve been calling him “pretentious bush guy” in my head. And phone.”

“Seriously?” 

“Hedge funds,” she said dismissively. “It was a whole thing, I think you needed to be there.” 

Jughead smirked but kept his laugh back. “Just leave it to me.” 

Taking a deep breath, Betty gave him a sharp nod and turned around to head back to her table and nameless date. 

* * *

Jughead had no idea what he was doing or what he’d just offered to do. He hadn’t been able to help himself when she was standing in front of him, calling him out and pinning him down with her big eyes like an angry cat he sort of wanted to let scratch him. 

Thinking on his feet, he let her sit back down before making his way over to her table. 

“Betty.” His voice was strained and as angry as he could make it. “What are you doing?” 

She turned her eyes up to him, shocked by his tone. “Jughead?” 

“Is this what you want?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“We have one fight and you decide to find the first guy in a suit you can and go out on Valentine’s Day? Our _anniversary?_ ” 

“Betty?” the nameless date asked. “Who is this?” 

She glared at him and he realized his mistake, flushing. “You know what? It doesn’t matter who it is, you’re coming home with me right now.” 

“Betty?” her date asked again, looking back and forth between her and Jughead. “I thought you were single?” 

“Is that what she told you?” Jughead asked tersely, crossing his arms. “Wow, Betty.” 

“Jughead,” Betty whispered contritely, staring down at her hands. 

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was on the verge of tears. 

“Let’s go, Betty. Now,” he commanded, holding his hand out for her. Pulling her up the moment her hand was in his, he shook his head sadly at her. “I am so disappointed in you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Betty said quietly, biting down on her lip so the corners of her mouth couldn’t twitch up and give her away. “Really, Jughead, it won’t happen again. I promise.” 

“That’s what you said last time, too, isn’t it?” 

She reached for her purse and he grabbed her jacket, helping her slip it on. Ignoring the stares of the people at nearby tables, he turned her around and started buttoning her coat, giving her a disapproving glare the entire time, fighting the smile that kept threatening to come through. 

“Let’s go home, the kids are waiting—”

“Kids?” her still nameless date asked, gaping at them. “What the fu—”

“You won’t do this on Mother’s Day, will you?” Jughead interrupted, frowning seriously at her. 

She stepped one of those sharp heels on his foot and he fought a wince. “Of course not.” Betty turned and pinned her shocked date with guileless doe eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sam—” 

“Sam? That’s not my name.” 

“Robert?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Seriously?” 

“Edward?” 

“Adam. My name is Adam,” the newly named Adam informed her with a hard stare. 

“Huh,” Betty hummed out. “You don’t look like an Adam.” 

Adam scoffed. “Yeah, well you don’t look like you’ve popped out any kids, so…” 

“Less charming all of the sudden, isn’t he, baby?” Jughead asked, tucking her into his side. 

“Very much so,” Betty sniffed, turning her nose up at her now-abandoned date. “Rude is what he is.” 

“Are you for real?” Adam looked incensed and confused. “You two deserve each other.” 

“Thank you for noticing,” Jughead said graciously, leading Betty away from the table and towards the front of the restaurant, slipping a rose out of the vase on the hostesses station into his hand on their way out. 

Once they pushed past the door, they broke into loud laughter, almost jogging until they were around the corner where they stopped to stare at each other for a moment before laughing again. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” Betty told him breathlessly, stepping in and out of her shoes to stretch her feet one at a time so she never had to stand on the concrete. “I can never go back to that restaurant now.” 

“Eh,” Jughead shrugged, “they still had open tables on Valentine’s Day, it can’t be that good, right?” 

Betty smiled at him, shaking her head. “I suppose.” 

“Your feet hurt?” he asked, glancing down at her still-squirming feet. 

“Yeah.” Shifting her weight from one leg to another, she winced when she tried to take a step forward. “These shoes were not made for walking.” 

“Come here,” he said, reaching for her hand. Pulling him towards her, he slipped the stolen rose into her palm before he turned around and offered her his back. “Jump up.” 

“Are you serious?” 

He turned back around, taking the rose back and breaking the stem before sliding the flower behind her ear, tucking it securely into her hair. “What would Saint Valentine do?” 

“Become the Patron Saint of beekeepers?” she asked blithely, smiling. 

“Only after being martyred.” He tapped her nose, making her laugh, before taking her bag out of her hands. “Come on.” 

Jughead felt her hands on his shoulders when he turned around again. He could hear her suck in a steadying breath before she jumped, her thighs tightening around his hips until he could give her back her purse and catch the underside of her thighs with his hands. 

“Ready?” he asked, hitching her up for a better grip and silently thanking the Patron Saint of beekeepers that she was wearing a short dress. 

“Where are we going?” 

“You want a burger? I know a good place around here.” 

Betty wrapped her arms around his neck and he tried to stifle the shiver that wanted to run through him at the contact.

“Only if they have milkshakes and you promise not to accuse me of cheating in the middle of my meal.” 

“I promise,” he swore, starting to walk towards his favorite diner. “I’ll wait until you’re finished, don’t worry.” 

* * *

“Thanks for walking me home,” Betty said, sliding down off his back, gasping when her poor feet hit the sidewalk. “And for paying for dinner.” 

Laughing, he lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Seemed like the least I could do after accusing you of cheating on me to get you out of a boring date.” 

“Don’t forget the part where I left my kids at home to do it.” 

“Ah,” he started, running a hand through his hair. “Can’t forget that part.” 

“It was,” Betty mused, tapping her finger to her lips in thought, “creative if nothing else.” 

“I wanted to make sure he didn’t want another date,” Jughead said, rocking back on his heels. 

Betty glanced up at him through hooded eyes. “Why’s that?” 

“I think you know.” 

“Did you mean it? What you texted me earlier?” 

A slow smile crossed his face. “You know I did.” 

“You could have just texted me,” she reminded him coyly. 

“I know.” 

“But?” 

“But maybe I wanted to meet you in person.” Jughead stepped closer to her, tilting her chin up. “Maybe I didn’t want to be just a wrong number.” 

“Do you want to take me on a date, Jughead Jones?” 

He laughed quietly before running his thumb along the soft skin of her cheek. “Yes, on a second date.” 

“And then?” 

“A third. And fourth.” 

Betty moved closer, turning her face up. “A fifth?” 

“I think,” he murmured, leaning down, wrapping long fingers around the curve of her neck, “even a fiftieth one.” 

“I like the sound of that,” she whispered and rolled up on her toes to meet his lips in a soft kiss. 

The moment she went to break contact, he groaned and cupped her cheeks, moving his mouth against hers, refusing to let her go. Her blood was thrumming through her veins when she pulled him closer, gripping the lapels of his coat tightly in her fists. He nipped at her lower lip and she opened for him, letting him trace his tongue along her, caressing it in a soft exploration. 

Betty almost whimpered when he let her go to catch his breath, slowly opening her eyes when he let go of her face. 

“You need to tell me to go or I’m going to keep standing here on the street kissing you,” he told her, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, fingering the shell. 

Making a decision and trusting her gut before her brain caught up with her mouth, she grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. “You can kiss me upstairs.” 

* * *

He felt the breath leave him at her offer. “Betty—”

“Don’t you wanna kiss me upstairs, Jughead?” she whispered, moving to kiss him again. “I know I want you to.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Are you going to carry me so I don’t have to walk in these terrible but beautiful shoes?” 

“You know I will.”

“Then I’m sure.” 

His free hand dove into her hair, tangling his fingers in it and tugged her head back gently. “Sounds like blackmail.” 

“I like to think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement.” 

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, letting her go to sweep her up into his arms as she giggled breathlessly and promised to help him open the doors. 

He can’t remember how they got to her apartment or how they got to her room, coats off and shoes being left in a trail across her floor. He pushed her hair off her neck, reaching for the zipper on the back of her dress, pulling it down while he laved kisses on her shoulder. She let the dress fall off of her, stepping out of it before moving to help him unbutton his own shirt. 

She pushed it off his arms with a sigh, stroking her fingers over his shoulders and chest. “I knew these were going to be good.” 

“What?” he asked, confused. 

“When I poked you earlier. I just had to know.” 

“You were thinking about my chest earlier?” 

Betty nodded, not taking her eyes from the smooth skin in front of her. “Mmhmm.” 

“Good to know.” Jughead popped the button on his pants, pushing the zip down before drawing her closer by the satin curves of her hips, kissing her hungrily. He walked her backwards towards the bed moving his mouth to push biting kisses against her neck and collarbones. 

Her whimpers were the only sounds he heard aside from his own heavy breathing. Kicking his pants off, he spun them around to sit on the edge of the bed and settled her into his lap. Her nails bit into his shoulder when he leaned back to rove his eyes over her chest, the lacy strapless bra too much of a temptation not to pull down. 

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, crushing her to him so he could kiss her once more. 

Her hips rolled against him causing him to groan into her mouth while pulling her down further into him in retaliation. Betty’s legs trembled and she pushed herself against him, her heated breath rushing out against his skin while her mouth found her way to his earlobe, tugging it between her lips. Wrapping her hair around his hand, he held her in place with a strong arm around her back as he stood to lay her across the bed. 

“Trouble,” he said, crawling over her to lay in the cradle of her thighs. Pressed hard against her, she shivered at his touch when he thumbed over the beads of her nipples. “I knew it.” 

Her legs wrapped around his hips, using him as a brace to undulate against him. His forehead fell on the satin smooth skin of her chest with a low moan, breathing the sweet scent of her in. Taking the hint when she arched her back, he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, softly kissing along the tops of her breasts before tossing it aside. Moving down to take a nipple in his mouth, he ran his tongue across them indulgently and kept a steady pace, only moving when she begged him to. 

He sat up on his knees, his eyes taking her in. Plucking at the elastic of the barely there lacy panties, he smirked when he saw her stomach tense with the touch of his fingertips. Slipping his hands under the backs of her knees and tugging them forward until they unwound from around him, he let go to glide his hands up the skin of her inner thighs. 

She blinked slowly at him, her mouth parted as she tried to catch her breath. The pink of her tongue peeking out from between her pouting lips almost tempted him away from his goal but he held back, sliding his fingers under the edge of the lace, the wet warmth pushing a heavy breath out of him. 

He didn’t know why he felt like he wanted to devour a woman he barely knew but the impulse was there all the same. 

“What do you want?” 

Her face clouded in confusion, her heels finding purchase on his calves. “Don’t tease me.” 

“I think that’s exactly what you want,” he said, pushing the lace aside to slip a finger into her, making her inhale sharply. “Isn’t it?” 

Betty’s hands buried themselves in her hair, fingers twisting while she tried to get him to move faster. She keened loudly when he sped up, adding another finger, making her jump. Her toes curled into his legs and he fell forward on one arm, kissing her deeply before putting pressure on her clit with his thumb. She reached for him, her hands locking onto his neck to keep him in place. 

He felt her start to tremble and with a loud moan into his mouth, he felt her body spasm and shiver before she fell back, catching her breath. He kissed her, working her through it, letting her jumping pulse slow down before he pulled his hand away, holding her to him. 

Giving him a sated smile, she sighed before her eyes closed for a moment. Just as he was about to settle down next to her, she shoved him on his back and straddled him. Her hair was almost as wild as her eyes when she ground into him, making him hiss at the sensation. 

She snapped the waist of his boxers smugly. “My turn.” 

“Yeah?” 

Nodding, she leaned over him to reach into her nightstand, sitting back triumphantly with a condom in her hand. Putting the edge of it between her teeth, she started working his boxers down, shimmying them off as far as she could push them with his help before she ripped the packet open and slid the latex down him with ease. 

He eyed the lacy panties she was still wearing in question and she shrugged, seemingly inviting him to do what he will with them. Jughead considered it for a split second before he grabbed them and pulled, ripping them until they were easily shoved aside so she could lift up and slide down on him. 

Betty fell forward at the contact, her palms landing on his chest as he sucked in a breath at the warmth of her. She moved, slowly at first, up and down before speeding up and took his hands in hers to brace herself above him. Pausing to lean down and kiss him, he freed his hands to wrap around her, holding her to him. He pushed up when she slid down, the change in angle and depth ripping a loud groan from him. The feeling of heat and pleasure built up along his spine, pooling in his abdomen. Tugging on her hair, he pulled her head back to look in her eyes as he came, trying to memorize the moment. 

Breathing harshly, he fell back against the bed, running his hands up and down her back, trying to slow his racing pulse. 

“That was…” he trailed off, kissing her forehead instead of finishing the sentence. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, her cheek resting against his chest. 

“Not a bad Valentine’s Day for a wrong number text, right?” 

She huffed a laugh and it danced across his still cooling skin. “I don’t think that’s what it was at all.” 

Twisting his head to look down at her, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What do you think it was then?” 

Her fingers trailed delicate circles over his ribs. “I think you’re just a hopeless romantic, Jughead Jones.” 

“Maybe.” He sighed and kissed her forehead again. “Or maybe just for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, I am still ready for the cheese police but I make no apologies. 
> 
> And while I personally care more about the candy than the date on the calendar, I hope you all have a wonderful Valentine’s Day! And may your day never be like the time the mister tied balloons to my dogs collars thinking it would be cute and scared the absolute hell out of me. Floating balloons coming at me while I was concentrating? I was ready for battle and Pennywise in a hot second, I tell you. Oof. I yelled, one of the dogs ran, they got caught up in the doorway, the other one was like, “My dignity is insulted, I want cookies.” 
> 
> Anyways, he only did it, like, 3 more times before I was like, stop that, I want candy. 
> 
> However! Just remember, that even if today isn’t a day you enjoy, it can’t be worse than me yelling the word shit directly into a school district supervisors ear this week. While she was on speakerphone. And I see her regularly. So, chins up, dolls, you’re glorious and wonderful just the way you are! 
> 
> I send you besos and love and hugs and smores and I'm looking forward to hearing what you think of this one! Besos again! 
> 
> As always, you can [tumble](https://thetaoofbetty.tumblr.com/) with me if you want.


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